


through the spaces in between

by fauhnas



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauhnas/pseuds/fauhnas
Summary: The team is captured in 1973 and Lucy makes a deal.





	through the spaces in between

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!! I've found myself suddenly head over heels for this pairing, and so I'm dusting off my keyboard after a long hiatus from writing. I hope you enjoy my first venture into writing about the magic that is Lucy and Wyatt/the time team!
> 
> Title from the song Circles by EDEN.

Lucy strains against the ropes securing her hands to the wall heater, using her nails to scrape against the fibers to no avail.

The small motel room she's being held in is musty, and lack of air circulation causes the warmth to cling to her skin. She huffs in frustration, the high waist of her pants digging painfully into her abdomen, but it's a discomfort she has no time to address.

Footsteps reverberate outside the room, and she twists in attempt to face the entrance. A door opens and slams, and she feels only a moment of relief when she remains alone in the room.

It all goes up in smoke as she hears a yell that is distinctly Rufus's.

She thinks she might hate the 70's.

Lowering herself the ground, she sits against the heater, still pulling haphazardly against the ropes. She winces as yell from Rufus falls short, the silence thickening around her. Footsteps echo beyond the door once again, growing louder as they draw closer.

She braces herself, and the white of the door seems to grow larger in the otherwise dark room, closing in on her. Wyatt's face flashes through her mind as she anticipates the Rittenhouse agents. Getting past at least one of them might be possible, just like he taught her, if only she could get her hands free. She pulls hard on the ropes, the fibers cutting into her wrists.

The door is handle twists and she braces herself, still tied to the heater, as the door is cranked open and Wyatt throws himself into the room. She exhales the breath she had been holding.

"Wyatt?"

"Lucy," he rushes to her, kneeling beside her at the wall. He pauses for a moment at her side, drinking her in as if she might disappear from right below his fingertips.

The fresh air that had wafted in at his entrance reaches her then, the smell of freshly cut grass and sod. The creaking of the motel hums the background, and ever so softly, he raises his hand to her face, brushing flyaway hairs out of her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks, moving a knife from his pocket.

"I'm fine, I think Rufus is in the room next door," she takes a shaky breath, trying to hide how close she was to hysterics as he slices the ties away from her wrists. As the rope falls to the floor, he takes her freed hands in his and pulls her onto her feet. "I didn't know if you were coming, you were pursuing the sleeper agent and-" she shakes her head, leaning closer to him.

The anxiety that had encompassed her fades away in his closeness.

Their movement towards the exit halts, and the urgency she had been feeling to escape hangs in the balance. The small room no longer feels as if it might collapse in on her. Their eyes meet, and it doesn't matter that they could be discovered at any second, or that Rittenhouse was changing the past as they breathed one another in. All that matters is that this small, dirty, prison of a motel room in 1973 had suddenly become home.

He pulls into her, their foreheads almost touching. "I'll always come for you, Lucy." A soft smile plays at his lips.

A crash draws both of their gazes to the door, but by then it's too late. Lucy watches in horror as two Rittenhouse agents barge into the room, guns drawn, Emma walking in behind them.

They kick Wyatt prone before he even has chance to go for his firearm, leaving him with only the knife in his hand. The second agent yanks Lucy abruptly into him, her arms twisted painfully behind her back as she attempts to pull away from the much larger man. The other agent has Wyatt on his back, gun trained to his chest. Lucy thinks she hears herself scream.

"I thought we might be seeing you sooner or later, Master Sergeant Logan," Emma says.

Wyatt shifts as if he's about to stand, earning him a swift kick to the side. He grunts in protest, pain flashing across his face.

Lucy cries out, desperate, "please, please don’t hurt him! I’ll do anything you want, just please-"

“Lucy,” Wyatt interrupts her, and it almost sounds like a warning. Lucy drags her eyes from his.

"I'll go wherever you want me to, do whatever you want. Just," she swallows to keep her voice from breaking. "Please, just leave him alone."

Emma looks at Lucy for a long moment before- "Shoot him. We can't have him fighting back."

The horrible click of the cocking of a gun fills the room.

"No, no stop!"

The gun fires as she’s being dragged towards the door.

"Wyatt!" She writhes against her captor, every muscle in her body driving her get back to him, to somehow make him okay. He wheezes slightly, air struggling to enter his lungs, and Lucy pulls so violently against the agent that he's forced to lift her slightly off the ground as he maneuvers her towards the door. She thinks Wyatt is trying to tell her something, but her own yells down out any voice he might have left.

"Wyatt! Wyatt!" She tries without success to kick at her attacker with her now dangling legs. She's carried out the door, away from his bleeding body. She begins to sob somewhere along the way, struggling into the darkness of the night until finally succumbing to a detached stillness as a black mesh bag is thrown over her head.

 

Her face begins to tingle, tears continuing to stream down her face as she's shoved unceremoniously into what feels like the trunk of a car.

It's spacious, without a second body pushed up beside her own.

As they drive the tingling morphs into a haze, and she wonders if she'll be able to survive losing him for a second time.

They have her in the car for what feels like hours, the bumps in the road ticking away the seconds until they blur together, the ceaselessly circling hands of a clock. The bumps of a rough stretch of road jar her from the haze she had let envelop her.

If Wyatt were here he would be keeping track of road, counting every turn to figure out where they were taking them. The shot echoes in her mind, his body falling to the ground with a deafening thud. He was good as dead if they had left him there.

She wonders if they’ll kill her, too. Death would be better than whatever Rittenhouse has planned for her.

Another bump, and the shot fires through her memory again. She sees him in the blackness, still lying on the floor. They hadn't even let her go to him. Anxious dread bubbles in her chest.

Bump. The only safe place she had left, gone in an instant. The gun, ringing through her mind. He shouldn’t have come for her.

There’s a clawing in her chest, and she lets the haze reclaim her mind before the pain of it can overtake her.

 

Hours later, the car screeches to a halt.

They drag her from the car, and she resists the urge to run. If they’re going to kill her she might as well let them get it over with.

The air bites at her ankles, and she's relived when they bring her inside, even while she's being bound to the chill of a hard metal chair.

The only thing she sees when the bag is removed is Emma staring back at her.

Lucy pulls back, and the other woman grins.

"Hi princess, you miss me?"

Lucy shakes her head slightly, but says nothing.

"That’s a shame. You have something we need." She backs away, moving through the nearly empty room to lean against a sturdy wooden table. The only other furniture is an armoire from the same material, the disparity of décor unable to mask the prestige of the of the room. What nicer objects had been removed prior to her arrival Lucy didn't know, but the quality of furniture and poorly covered large windows place them in the home of some well-off Rittenhouse shmuck.

 She moves her eyes back to Emma, still appraising her from the table. "You might as well kill me then. Because I’m not giving you anything."

"You know I’d love to, but unfortunately that's not in the cards." She pauses. "When you were here before, you met a woman named Doc. We need to know her location."

"Doc? She escaped Rittenhouse. We-" Lucy inhales sharply. "We helped her escape. You're crazy if you think I'd tell you where she went."

"We thought you might say that," Emma hums as she pulls her pistol from waistband of her pants and examines it, turning it carefully in her hands. Her eyes flash up to meet Lucy's. "Your boyfriends are alive, you know."

Lucy clenches her teeth so hard she's afraid her jaw might break, and her heart begins to race. She fights the relief that begins to wash over her. There's no way to prove that Emma's words are true, not until she sees Rufus and Wyatt breathing with her own two eyes. "I don’t believe you."

"One word from me and they really are as good as gone," Emma smirks. "I can bring you to them, if you’re willing to cooperate. Or we can kill them both and drag you back to mommy dearest. It's your choice."

"So what happens if I tell you where she went? You kill them anyway?"

"We might be able to work something out for your pilot. Your solider, on the other hand, isn’t going to last much longer. Think of it as more a chance to say goodbye."

Lucy swallows hard, then steels herself, raising her chin. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want my help.” If he's still alive, she can still save him, or at the very least she can still try.

Emma narrows her eyes, "Fine. You give us the information we want, I'll see what we can do about saving your boy-toy."

"That’s not good enough. I want to see him, both of them. Then you're going to help Wyatt, and then I'll tell you what you want to know. You can kill me if I don't." It comes out more desperately than she intends.

Emma takes her in for a moment before smiling ever so slightly. It gives Lucy the sick feeling that she's playing directly into Rittenhouse's hand.

"Fine. But if you so much as think about not holding up your end of the deal, they're good as dead."

 

They lead her down what she assumes is a hallway, the bag secured over her head once again.

"We knock and then you come out. Or we shoot them both, you understand?" Emma's voice is near her ear, and all she can do is nod in response.

The bag is ripped from her head as she's pushed through a door, stumbling into a long, narrow bedroom. Rufus is the first person she sees, and she can't help the noise of relief drawn from her throat.

"Lucy?" He looks up at her, tied to a chair that’s been bolted to the floor but pulls towards her anyway, fighting against his bonds.

"Rufus!" She rushes to him, stopping only to take in the large gash oozing on his forehead. She lifts her hand, hovering above the cut, but he pulls away. "Rufus, I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine. We've survived worse, right?"

She tries her best to smile at him. "I hope so."

Rufus takes no note of her melancholy. "Wyatt's over there. He's not looking too good but as soon as you get me out of here-"

"I can't," she shuffles away from him ever so slightly. "I'm not here to break you out. I made a deal with them. To save him- both of you."

He stares at her for a moment in disbelief. "Lucy. . . I know better than anyone that you should not be making deals with these people."

"I know, but-" tears fill her eyes.

"It's Wyatt." Rufus looks down, nodding. "He's not going to be happy about it, you know."

"I know," she looks across the room, trying to make out his form on a small bed against the far wall.

Rufus's easy concession confirmed what she had been fearing- Emma had been telling the truth about his condition. Something squeezes in her chest, and she has to remind herself to breathe.

"You should go to him. I'll just. . . hang out here." He smiles slightly, tugging the ropes around his wrists.

She nods, patting Rufus on the shoulder before rising from her kneeling position and taking a deep breath.

The distance from Rufus to the bed feels larger than it should, but she crosses it, stepping in time with the shallow breaths leaving Wyatt's body. He lies face up and unconscious, and she kneels beside him, her form in itself a silent prayer. She gently touches his face with her hand. Alive, he's alive and breathing and she no longer feels as if she's lost a sea.

"Wyatt?" It's a prayer and a plea, begging for him to come back to her. He blinks awake slowly, turning his head towards her voice.

"Lucy?" He's suddenly much more awake, and shifts to his side with a harsh breath of pain, though his one wrist bound to the bed frame makes it difficult. He covers her hand cupping his face with his free hand, his expression becoming distressed. "Lucy what are you doing here? You need to leave." He heaves as if he's about to stand, grimacing.

She places her other hand on his chest, pushing his pallid form gently back onto the bed. "Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay." Her fingers splay against his chest and she centers herself in the feel of his heartbeat, drinking in the blue of eyes. The gentle rhythm lulls her, but Wyatt shuts his eyes, shaking his head.

"You need to get Rufus and go. Just forget about me."

"Look at me. I’m not going anywhere without you. Neither is Rufus, you're-" her brow furrows, and she wishes she could make him understand. "We're not leaving you behind."

He looks at her again, but this time his eyes are ablaze. "Lucy. . ." a groan of pain cuts his sentence short, and she moves their hands from his face, still holding his in hers.

"It was my fault they shot you, Wyatt. If you had died I-" she looks down for a moment, and then meets his eyes again-"I wouldn't be able to survive that."

He shakes his head a fraction, but says nothing.

"I made a deal, and they're going to help you. You just have to trust me."

"I do," he says, softening, "but you have to get out of here. Screw whatever deal you made. You need to run." He squeezes her had gently. "Please."

"Wyatt-"

"There's no way you're getting me out of here like this, Luce." He runs his thumb over her knuckles. "And that is not your fault. But you do need to go, get out of here while you can."

"I am not leaving you. You're-" a loud knock on the door jars her, and the words _you're my home_ die in her throat. She squeezes his hand as she stands, ignoring the prickling in her eyes. "I'll be back," she tries for a half smile, "don't die on me while I'm gone."

"Lucy. . ."

She turns from him before she can break. Walking quickly, she spares a quick nod at Rufus before finding the door, the handle cold in her Wyatt-warmed hands.

Before she can catch a glimpse of the hall the bag is pulled back over her head, plunging her back into darkness.

 


End file.
